X 



PQ 1 



t&t 






Urn*- 



; :: ^,. 



'■• 






^ 



K3S 




>*mI 






*-" 




$. 1 





Glass 
Book. 




lz£l 



PRESENTED BV 



/?0S 



. fl* 




* SS v* 



^-*%r 9 



^ POEIVLS^ 

FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF 

LUIS DE CAMOENS: 

WITH REMARKS 
ox 

HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS, 

NOTES, &c. &c. 



%» 



BY LORD VISCOUNT STRANGFORD. 



.Arcipies nero- cctqrcs 

11 , ,€atalh 



PHILADELPHIA: * 



PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY H. MAXWELL, 
OPPOSITE CHRIST CHURCH. 

1805 



TO 
DENHAM JEPHSON, ESQ, M. P. Sec. Sec. 

IN TESTIMONY OF GRATEFUL ATTACHMENT, 

THE FOLLOWING PAGES ARE INSCRIBED, 
BY 
HIS AFFECTIONATE KINSMAN, 

THE TRANSLATOR. 



I 



REMARKS 



THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 



OF 



CAMOENS. 



It lias been frequently observed, that the 
memoirs of literary men are, in general, so devoid 
of extraordinary incident, that the relation of them 
is calculated more to instruct than to amuse. The 
life of Camoens forms an exception to this remark. 
Its vicissitudes were so many and so various, as 
almost to encourage a belief, that in describing them, 
the deficiencies of fact were sometimes supplied by 
the pencil of romance. 

The late ingenious Translator of the Lusiad has 
pourtrayed the character, and narrated the misfor- 
tunes of our poet, in a manner more honourable to 
his feelings as a man, than to his accuracy in point 
of biographical detail. It is with diffidence that the 
A 2 



. 



I 



present writer essays to correct his errors ; but as 
the real circumstances of the life of Camoens are 
mostly to be found in his own minor compositions, 
with which Mr. Mickle was unacquainted, he trusts 
that certain information will atone for his presump- 
tion. 

The family of Camoens was illustrious, and 
originally Spanish. They were long settled at Cad- 
mon*, a castle in Galicia, from which they probably 
derived their patronymic appellation. However, 
there are some who maintain that their name allu- 
ded to a certain wonderful birdf, whose mischievous 
sagacity discovered and punished the smallest devi- 
ation from conjugal fidelity. A lady of the house 
of Cadmon, whose conduct had been rather indis- 

* Faria y Sousa, V. del P. § iii. 

f The Camao. Our poet himself gives a somewhat differ- 
ent account of the matter, (^uintil. a huma dama, v, 190.) 
Formerly, every well regulated family in Spain retained one 
of these terrible attendants. The infidelity of its mistress was 
the only s circumstance which could deprive it of life. Should 
her guilt have been extended to any degree beyond a wish, the 
faithful bird immediately betrayed it, by expiring at the feet 
of its injured lord. It soon was difficult to find a Camao that 
had lived in the same family during three generations ; and at 
length the species became entirely extinct! 

This odious distrust of female honour is ever character- 
istic of a barbarous age. The Camao of Spain, and the 
Mumbo of Africa, are expedients indicative of equal refine- 
ment. 



creet, demanded to be tried by this extraordinary 
judge. Her innocence was proved, and in grati- 
tude to the being who had restored him to matri- 
monial felicity, the contented husband adopted his 
name. 

In the fourteenth century, a dispute having 
arisen between the families of Cadmon and De Cas- 
tera*, a knight of the former, had the misfortune to 
kill a cavalier belonging to the latter. A long train 
of persecution ensued, to escape from which, Ruy de 
Camoens embraced the cause of King Ferdinandf* 
and removed with his family into Portugal, under 
the protection of that monarch, about the year 1370. 
His son, Vasco de Camoens, was highly distinguish- 
ed by royal favour^, but had the superior honour of 
being the ancestor of our immortal poet, who de- 
scended from him in the fourth generation. 

Luis de Camoens was born at Lisbon, about 
the year 1524||. His misfortunes began with his 

* Salgado de Araujo. — Casas de Galicia, p. 304. 

f Gar cez Ferreyra. — Vid. do Poet. Edit. Gendron. § iii. 

\ King Ferdinand invested him with the lordships of Por- 
talegre, Alam-quer, &c. Faria. 

| The place of his nativity is ascertained, by his frequent 
application of the epithet "paternal " to the Tagus ; the time 
of it is involved in some obscurity, but an entry in the regis- 
ter of the Portuguese India House appears to determine it. 
He is there stated to have been twenty -five years old in 1550. 
Faria. Vid. do Poet. 



8 



birth, for he never saw the smiles of a father; 
Simon Vaz de Camoens having perished by ship- 
wreck in the very year which gave being to his son. 
Such, at least, is the received opinion, although 
there be many reasons for calling it into question*. 
Notwithstanding the diminution of wealth which the 
family sustained in consequence of this event, the 
youthful Camoens was sent to the university of 
Coimbraf, and maintained there by the provident 
care of his surviving parent. 

The ideas associated with the place of our edu- 
cation are generally lasting. It is the peculiarity 
of poeticai minds to recall them with delight, and 
Camoens frequently mentions Coimbra, where he 
was fostered on the " lap of science," with all the 
tender gratitude of an affectionate son. During the 
period which he passed at the university, he was 
an utter stranger to that passion, with which he after- 
wards became so intimately acquainted. It is even 
recorded, that while the manly graces of his per- 
son inspired many of the better sex with admira- 
tion, he treated his fair captives with disdain, or 

* The same register mentions him as one of his son's 
sureties, and consequently, living- in 1550. 
j- Fariay Sousa — Severim — Ferreyra. 



at most, as the mere objects of temporary trans- 
port*. 

But the scene was soon to be changed, and on 
his arrival at Lisbon, he was destined to feel the full 
vengeance of that god whose power he had contemn- 
ed. Love is very nearly allied to devotion, and it was 
in the exercise of the latter that Camoens was intro- 
duced to the knowledge of the former. In the Church 
of" Christ's Wounds/' at Lisbon, on the 11th of 
April, 1 542f, he first beheld Doha Caterina de Ataide, 
the object of his purest and earliest attachment. The 
churches of Spain and Portugal, says Scarron, are 
the very cradles of intrigue t ; and it was not long 
before Camoens enjoyed an opportunity of declar- 
ing his affection, with all the romantic ardour of 
eighteen, and of a poet. 

But, in those days, love was a state of no trifling 
probation, and ladies then unconscionably expected a 
period of almost chivalrous servitude, which happily 
for gentlemen, is no longer required. The puncti- 
lious severity of his mistress formed the subject of 
our poet's most tender complaints ; for, though her 

* Camoens, Can$. II, stanz. vi. Cane. VII, stanz. ii. Son 
VII. Sous a in loc. 

f For the reasons which have induced the translator to 
assign this date, see the note on Sonnet I. 

| Roman Comique; P. I, ch. ix. 



10 

heart had secretly decided in his favour, still Portu- 
guese delicacy suppressed all avowal of her passion. 
After many months of adoration, when he humbly 
besought a ringlet of her hair, she was so far soften- 
ed by his entreaties, as to make a compromise with 
prudery, and bestow one of the silken] fillets which 
encircled her head* ! These anecdotes must not be 
despised, for they mark the temper of the times. 

The peculiar situation of Dona Caterina (that 
of one of the queen's ladies) imposed an uniform 
restraint on her lover, which soon became intolerable. 
Like another Ovid, he violated the sanctity of the 
royal precincts, and was in consequence banished 
from the courtf. With the precise nature of his 
offence we are unacquainted, but it too probably 
arose from a breach of discretion, the first and noblest 
amongst the laws of gallantry J. Whatsoever it 
might have been, it furnished a happy pretext to the 
lady's relations, for terminating an intercourse which 
worldly considerations rendered, on her part, of the 
highest imprudence. But Love prepared consola- 
tion for his votary, where least he expected it. On 
the morning of his departure, his mistress relented 

* Camoens, Son. XL II, and Sousa in loc. 

t Camoens, Eleg. Ill, and Sousa in loc. 

% Fariay Sousa. Comment, in Eclog. pag\ 240. 



11 

from her wonted severity, and confessed the secret 
of her long-concealed affection*. The sighs of grief 
were soon lost in those of mutual delight, and the 
hour of parting was, perhaps, the sweetest of our 
poet's existence. Thus comforted, he removed to 
Santarem (the scene of his banishment) but speedily- 
returned to Lisbon, again tasted of transport, was a 
second time detected, and a second time driven into 
exilef. To such a spirit as Camoens, the inactivity 
of this situation must have proved insupportable ; the 
voice of Love whispered a secret reproach, and in- 
spired him with the glorious resolution of conquer- 
ing the obstacles which fortune had placed between 
him and felicity. He accordingly sought and ob- 
tained permission to accompany King John III|, in 
an expedition then concerted against the Moors in 
Africa. Here, whilst bravely fighting under the 
commands of a near relation |j, he was deprived of 
his right eye, by some splinters from the deck of 
the vessel in which he was stationed. Many of his 

* Sonnet XXIV, and Comment, in loc. 
f Fariay Sousa, V. del P. §xiv. 

% Of this monarch Camoens gives a fine character in one 
comprehensive line. 

ii Foy rey, fez tudo quanto a rey se de<ve" 

Son. L1X. 
" He was a king'-— in every act a king." 
|| Sousa says, under those of his father. Vida. § xiv. 



12 

most pathetic compositions were written during this 
campaign, and the toils of a martial life were sweet- 
ened by the recollection of her for whom they were 
endured. 

His heroic conduct in many engagements, at 
length purchased his recal to court. He hastened 
home, fraught with the most tender anticipations, 
and found — what must have been his feelings? that 
his mistress was no more ! — * 

There can scarcely be conceived a more inter- 
esting theme for the visions of romance, than the 
death of this young and amiable being. The cir- 
cumstances of her fate are peculiarly favourable to 
the exercise of conjecture. She loved, she was 
beloved, yet unfortunate in her attachment, she was 
torn from the world at the early age of twenty t ; and 
we cannot but adorn her grave with some of the 
wildest flowers which fancy produces. But her lot 
was enviable, compared to that of her lover. The 
measure of his sorrows was yet imperfect. He had 
still to encounter the cruel neglect of that nation, 
whose glory his valour had contributed to maintain. 
The claims of mere merit are too often disregarded, 
but those which are founded on the gratitude of 

* Comment, in Sonn. XIX, et alibi. •)■ Ibid. 



13 

courts are hopeless indeed ! Long years were passed 
by Camoens in unsuccessful application for the 
reward which his services demanded*, and in suing 
for his rights at the feet of men whom he could not 
but despise. This was a degradation which his 
high spirit knew not how to endure, and he accord- 
ingly bade adieu to Portugal, to seek, under the 
burning suns of India, that independence which his 
own country deniedf. 

There are some who attribute this event to a 
very different cause, and assert that Camoens quit- 
ted Lisbon in consequence of a discovered intrigue 
with the beautiful wife of a Portuguese gentleman!'. 
Perhaps this story may not be wholly unfounded. It 
is improbable that he remained long constant to the 
memory of a departed mistress, when living beauty 
was ready to supply her place. His was not a heart 

* Joseph de Aquino. Vid. do Poet. p. 132, edit. 1782. 

t " As derradeiras palavras que na nao disse forao as de 
Scipiao Africano, Ingrata patria, non possidebis ossa 
me a ! " The last words which I uttered on board of the vessel 
were those of Scipio — " Ungrateful country ! thou shalt not 
even possess my bones." Such are the expressions of Camoens, 
in a letter written from India, to a friend at Lisbon. The 
whole of this composition is interesting-, and pathetic in the 
extreme. 

\ Mickle.— Life of Camoens. Unfortunately, Mr. M. does 
not cite any authority for this supposition. 



14 

that could safely defy temptation, although the bar- 
barous ingenuity of some commentators* would 
make us believe, that all his amours were purely 
platonic, and that he was ignorant of the passion in 
every other respect. Happily for himself, the case 
was different, and his works record that he more than 
once indulged in the little wanderings of amatory 
frolicf. 

On his arrival in India, we find that Camoens 
contributed, in no small measure, to the success 
of an expedition against the Pimenta Isles, carried 
on by the king of Cochin and his allies the Portu- 
guese. His own recital of this affair exhibits all the 
charming modesty of meritf. In the following year 
(1555) Manuel de Vasconcelos conducted an arma- 
ment to the Red Sea§. Our poet accompanied him, 
and with the intrepid curiosity of genius, explored 
the wild regions of Africa by which Mount Felix 
is surrounded. Here his mind was stored with 
sketches of scenery, which afterwards formed some 
of the most finished pictures in his Lusiad^ and in 



* Faria, in Son. X, et al. 

f Those who are desirous of further information on this 
subject, may obtain a very curious anecdote by consulting- 
Sous a. Vid. del P. § xxxii. 

| Eleg. I. § Life, by Ferreyra, § xiv. 



15 

other compositions*, to the former of which, on 
returning to Goa, he devoted his whole attention. 

India, at that time, presented a scene of poli- 
tical depravity, which no subsequent period has 
exceeded. Practices were tolerated, which even- 
tually wrought the downfal of the government by 
whom they were authorized; hordes of hungry 
adventurers rioted on the spoils of the friendless 
natives, and the demons of rapacity and avarice 
were every where exalted into gods. The spirit of 
Camoexs rose in revolt against the enormities by 
which he was surrounded. An opportunity of de- 
claring his disgust, at length occurred. The arrival 
of a new governor at Goa, was celebrated by the 
exhibition of a kind of tournament, in which reeds 
were employed in place of lances, thence called 
" The Sjiort of the Canes." Camoens published 
a satirical account of this affair, in which he described 
the Chief men of Goa, as adorned with allegorical 
devices, &c. allusive to the character and conduct 
of eachf. In consequence of this, he was banished 

* In particular, the IX, Can 9am. 

f He likewise wrote some verses entitled, " Disparates na 
India" which severely animadverted on the mal-administra- 
tion of the new governor. 



16 

to China by order of Barreto, the Governor, against 
whom the bard's attack had been principally directed. 
This proceeding of Camoens has not escaped 
reprehension. He has been accused of ingratitude; 
but how could he be ungrateful, who never had a 
friend? His rashness in provoking the anger of the 
great, has likewise been censured by the cold- 
blooded moderation of worldly men ; men to whom 
truth itself seems a libel, if it offend the dignity of a 
grandee.* Yet, though it be a mournful fact that 
prudence and genius but rarely accord, is the 
sacrifice of the former to be regretted, when it 
makes way for the punishment of vice, by the bold 
utterance of honest indignation ? On this principle, 
the conduct of our author appears almost free from 
blame, and, perhaps, he was only culpable in suf- 
fering resentment to give too high a colouring to 
the sketches of truth. 

The adventures of Camoens in China, the tem- 
porary prosperity which he there experienced, and 
the numerous sorrows and persecutions which he 
afterwards encountered, have been fully and ele- 
gantly detailed by the late ingenious translator of the 

i 
* Amongst others, Mons. Du Perron de Caster a 3 the 
French translator of the Lusiad* 



17 

Lusiad. To his narration the present writer begs to 
refer, lest he should extend these remarks beyond 
their proper bounds. 

After an absence of sixteen years, Camoens 
was compelled to return to Portugal, poor and 
friendless as when he departed. His immortal Lu- 
siad was now ready for publication, which, however, 
was delayed, in consequence of the violence with 
which the plague then raged throughout Lisbon. 
At length, in the summer of 1572, it was printed,* 
and received with all the honour due to such a glori- 
ous achievement of genius. It is even asserted that 
King Sebastian, to whom it was inscribed, reward- 
ed the author with a pension of 375 reis\. But, ad- 
mitting the truth of this very doubtful story, our 
poet could not have remained in long possession of 
the royal bounty. Sebastian w T as speedily hurled 
from a tottering thronei, and liberality was a stran- 
ger to the soul of his successor. To his eyes the 

* Faria y Sousa, Vid. § xxvii. 

f When Sebastian undertook the Moorish expedition, 
assured of victory, he brought a poet with him to Africa, to 
witness -his exploits, and to celebrate them in song. The 
person selected for this office was Diego Bernardes, a man 
of poor and despicable abilities. Had Camoens been really 
a protege of the monarch, it is much more probable that he 
would have attended him, whose 

l( Sword and pen were rivals in renown." 

\ Farley ut supra. 

B 2 



18 

cowl of monkhood seemed a more graceful ornament 
than the noblest laurels of the muse*. Such was 
the spirit which patronised De Sat, and suffered the 
author of the Lusiad to starve ! 

The latter years of Camoens present a mourn- 
ful picture, not merely of individual calamity, but 
of national ingratitude. He whose best year's had 
been devoted to the service of his country, he, who 
had taught her literary fame to rival the proudest 
efforts of Italy itself, and who seemed born to revive 
the remembrance of ancient gentility and Lusian he- 
roism, was compelled in age, to wander through the 
streets, a wretched dependent on casual contribution. 
One friend alone remained to smooth his downward 
path, and guide his steps to the grave, with gentle- 
ness and consolation. It was Antonio, his slave, a 
native of Java, who had accompanied Camoens to 
Europe, after having rescued him from the waves, 
when shipwrecked at the mouth of the Mecon. This 
faithful attendant was wont to seek alms throughout 

* In the preface to the edition of Camoens, printed in 
1782, vol. i, p. 59, there is an attempt to vindicate the charac- 
ter of Cardinal Henry from the strictures of Mr. Mickle. 
But the voice of history cannot be silenced, and history is loud 
in his condemnation. 

f Sousa. Vid. § xxvii. Francisco de Sa was an author 
much in favour with Cardinal Henry. His muse was of a 
theological turn. He wrote orthodox sonnets to St. John, and 
pious little epigrams on Adam and Eve, &c. 



IS 



Lisbon, and at night shared the produce of the day 
with his poor and broken hearted master*. Blessed, 
forever blessed, be the memory of this amiable In- 
dian ! But his friendship was employed in vain: 
Camoens sank beneath the pressure of penury and 
disease, and died in an alms-housef early in the 
year 1579. He was buried in the church of Saint 
Anne of the Franciscans. Over his grave, Gongalo 
Coutinho placed the following inscription J, which, 
for comprehensive simplicity, the translator ventures 
to prefer to almost every production of a similar 
kind : 

HERE LIES LUIS DE CAMOENS : 

HE EXCELLED ALL THE POETS OF HIS TIME* 

HE LIVED POOR AND MISERABLE; 

AND HE DIED SO. 

MDLXXIX. 

* Fariay Sous a, § xxix. 

f The place of his death is differently mentioned by Ma* 
noel de Faria. According to that commentator, he died in his 
own miserable hovel, close to the church in which he was 
interred. 

\ Sousa. Vid. §. Some years afterwards, Don Gon- 
calves Camera caused a long and pompous epitaph to be en- 
graved on the same tomb. But this posthumous panegyric 
only added deeper disgrace to the facts recorded in the for- 
mer inscription. 



20 

It has been justly observed*, that the fate of 
Camoens, considered in a political view, bears an inti- 
mate connexion with that of his country. The same 
degradation of national sentiment, which suffered 
such a man to become a beggar and an outcast, not 
long afterwards plunged Portugal into the lowest dis- 
grace, and reduced her to the abject state of a con- 
quered province. So true it is, that the decline of 
public spirit in matters of taste is a certain indica- 
tion of political decayf. 

The character of Camoens may be inferred 
from his writings. An open and undisguised con- 
tempt of every thing base and sordid, whatever were 
the rank or power of its possessor, formed one of 
its principal features. We have already seen how 
much the worldly interest of our poet was injured 
by this honourable audacity of soul. Those who 
condemn it must be ignorant that the exercise of 
this feeling produces a more enviable delight than 



* Mickle. Life of Camoens. 

f Of this opinion was Camoens himself. In a letter to Don 
Francisco de Almeyda, written a few days before his death, 
he has these prophetic expressions: tl Veran todos que fuy 
tan aficionado a mi patria, que no solo bolvi para moriv en 
ella, mas para morir con ella !"■ — (i The world shall witness 
how dearly I have loved my country. I have returned not 
merely to die in her bosom, but to die with her !" Sousa. 
Vid. § xxv 



2i 

any which fortune can ever bestow. The poor man 
is not always poor 1 

But gallantry was the leading trait in the dispo- 
sition of Camoens. His amours w r ere various and 
successful. Woman was to him as a ministering 
angel, and for the little joy which he tasted in life, he 
was indebted to her. The magic of female charms 
forms his favourite theme, and while he paints the 
allurements of the sex with the glowing pencil of 
an enthusiast, he seems transported into that hea- 
ven which he describes. Nor did this passion ever 
desert him ; even in his last days, he feelingly regret- 
ted the raptures of youth, and lingered with delight 
on the remembrances of love. A cavalier named 
Ruy de Camera*, having called upon our author to 
finish a poetical version of the seven penitential 
psalms, raising his head from his miserable pallet, 
and pointing to his faithful slave, he exclaimed, 
" Alas, when I was a poet, I was young, and happy, 
and blest with the love of ladies , but now, I am a for- 
lorn deserted wretch: — See — there stands my poor 
Antonio, vainly supplicating four-pence to purchase 
a little coals — I have them not to give him!" The 
cavalier, as Sousa quaintly relates, closed his heart 

9 Sous a, Vid, §xxix. 



22 

and his purse, and quitted the room. Such were 
the grandees of Portugal ! 

The genius of Camoens was almost universal. 
Like the great father of English poetry, there is 
scarcely any species of writing, from the epigram to 
the epic, which he has not attempted, and, like him, 
he has succeeded in all. It is not the province of 
the translator to offer any remarks on the Lusiad. 
That task has already been ably performed. Of his 
minor productions, the general characteristic is ease ; 
not the studied carlessness of modern refinement, 
but the graceful and charming simplicity of a Gre- 
cian muse. When he wrote, the Italian model was 
in fashion, and as Camoens was intimately acquainted 
with that language, he too frequently sacrificed his 
better judgment to the vitiated opinion of the public. 
Hence the extravagant hyperboles and laborious 
allusions, which he has sometimes, though rarely, 
employed. But his own taste was formed on purer 
principles. He had studied and admired the poems 
of Provence*. He had wandered through those 
vast catacombs of buried genius, and treasure re- 

* " The poetry of the Troubadours passed into Arragon 
and Catalonia at the time when the kings of the former terri- 
tory (counts of Barcelona) became by marriage counts of Pro- 
vence." Mons. Ze Grand, Fabliaux, vol. ii, p. 25. 



23 

warded his search. Even the humble knowledge of 
Provencal literature, which the present writer pos- 
sesses, has enabled him to discover many passages 
which the Portuguese poet has rendered his own. 
But we must be careful not to defraud Cam o ens of 
the merit of originality. To that character he has, 
perhaps, a juster claim than any of the moderns, 
Dante alone excepted. The same remark which 
Landino applies to that poet, may be referred to 
him*. He was the first who wrote with elegance 
in his native tongue. The language of Rome, and 
even of Greece, had been refined by antecedent au- 
thors, before the appearance of Virgil or of Homer, 
but Camoens was at once the polisher, and in some 
degree the creator of his own. How deplorable must 
have been its state, when it naturalized two thousand 
new words, on the bare authority of a single manf! 
Monsieur Menage was wont to pique himself on 
having introduced into French the term "venuste;" 
yet all his influence could never make it current, 

* " Trovo Omero la lingua Greca molto gia abbondante, 
ed elimata da Orfeo, da Museo, &c. &c. trovo Virgilio la 
Latinaesornatae daEnnio, e da Lucrezio, &c. &c.mainanzi 
a Dante in lingua Toscana nessuno avea trovato alcuna 
leggiadria, &c." Landino. Comm. in Dant. ed. mccccxci. 
fol. xiii. 

f Longueruana, ou Pensees de l'Abbe Dufour, p. 229. 



24 

nor indeed did it long survive its illustrious 
fabricator*. 

Our author, like many others, has suffered 
much from the cruel kindness of editors and com- 
mentators. After the first publication of his "Rimas," 
there appeared a number of spurious compositions, 
which, for some time, were attributed to him. 
Amongst these was a poem to which notice is due, 
not on account of its own merit, but from regard to 
the reputation of Camoens. It is called " The 
Creation and Composition of Man," and is a strange 
medley of anatomy, metaphysics, and school divinity. 
In subject, and occasionally in execution, it strikingly 
resembles the Purple Island of Phineas Fletcher ; 
and, like it, is a curious example of tortured inge- 
nuity. One instance shall suffice. Man is typified 
under the symbol of a tower. The mouth is the 
gateway, and the teeth are described as two and 
thirty millers, clothed in white, and placed as guards 
on either side of the porch. His metaphor is more 
satirically just, when he represents the tongue as a 
female, old and experienced, whose office was to 
regulate and assist the efforts of the thirty-two 

* Longueruana, ou Pensees de PAbbe Dufour, p. 229: 



25 

grinders aforesaid, all young men of indispensable 
utility and extraordinary powers ! 

" Duros e rijos, trinta e dous moleiros 
" De grande forga, e utii exercico! 

He must possess no little credulity, who would attri- 
bute such a work, to the author of the Lusiad*. 

There is also another poem which bears his 
name, but is certainly the production of a different 
hand. The martyrdom of St. Ursula and the 
eleven thousand virgins forms its subject. But it is 
not probable that the persevering chastity of these 
unhappy ladies could ever have fouad favour in the 
sight of our amorous bard. It is still less likely 
that#he would have celebrated it in song. 

Camoens is the reputed author of three come- 
dies, published at different periods after his death. 
The subject of one of them is the amour of Antio- 
chus with his step-mother Stratonice. There are 
some fine passages to be found in this production ; 



* A Treatise on Surgery was printed in 1551, by Ber- 
nardino de Montana. The Second Part of it is called " El 
Sueno," or The Dream, and seems to have been the original 
from which this singular poem was derived. 
c 



26 

but in general, the writer seems to have anticipated 
the taste of modern times, and to have considered 
comedy and farce as the same. Another is founded 
on the prolonged adventure of Jupiter and Alcmena. 
The third, and indisputably the best, relates the ro- 
mantic loves of a Prince of Denmark and a Spanish 
Lady, who after a due course of tribulation, prove to 
be first-cousins, and are happily united. But not- 
withstanding the improbability of the design, the 
execution is good ; and, on the whole, this composi- 
tion bears internal evidence of the hand of Camoens. 
Something remains to be said of the present 
translation. It is offered to the world with diffidence, 
as the favourite amusement of a young mind, which, 
when obliged to relax from severer studies, preferred 
literary trifling to total inactivity. The translator 
begs to observe, that for the most part, he has closely 
copied his author, but that where circumstances 
demanded, he has not hesitated to be 

** True to his sense — but truer to his fame." 

Literal versions are justly deemed absurd ; yet, 
on the other hand, too great an extension of the 
Horatian precept, " Nee verbum verbo," has been 



27 

the bane of many. It has proved to the world of 
translation, what the phrase " liberality of senti- 
ment" has been to that of morals — the worst of 
errors have originated from both. 

Of the notes, little can be said. He who com- 
ments on amatory verses undertakes but a limited 
office. His utmost effort is the citation of parallel 
passages, unless he substitute admiration for criti- 
cism ; a mistake into which, of all others, a transla- 
tor is most likely to fall. 

The present writer has yet to offer his grateful 
acknowledgments to those whose advice and experi- 
ence have aided his labours. It is with pride and 
pleasure that he enrols among them the names of 
Percy and of Hayley. To the kindness of the 
latter he is indebted for the assistance of many 
valuable books, which could not elsewhere be pro- 
cured; and to the almost fatherly friendship of the 
learned Bishop of Dromore, his obligations have 
long been unbounded. It is no small honour to so 
young a writer, that he should be countenanced by 
men, who, like the good spirits in Trissino, sit under 
the shade of their own laurels, and smile encourage- 
ment on those who are labouring up the mountain 
over which they preside. 



POEMS, &c. 



FROM THE PORTUGUESE OF 



CAMOENS. 



c 2 



POEMS, 



CANZON. 

" Lembrevos minha tristeza 
" Que jamais," &c. 

Canst thou forget the silent tears 

Which I have shed for thee ? 
And all the pangs, and doubts, and fears, 
Which scatter'd o'er my bloom of years 
The blights of misery ? 

I never close my languid eye 

Unless to dream of thee ; 
My every breath is but the sigh, 
My every sound the broken cry, 

Of lasting misery. 



32 

O, when in boyhood's happier scene 

I pledg'd my love to thee, 
How very little did I ween 
My recompense should now have been. 

So much of misery ! 



33 



MADRIGAL. 

" Se de do vestida andais 

" Por quern ja vida no tern," &c 

Why art thou cloth'd in sad array 
For him, whose days are done, 

Yet dost no sign of grief display 

For those, thy lightning glances slay I 
Though he thou mournest be but one.; 

—More than a thousand, they—*. 

Thou bendest on the lover's pray'r 

The tearless eye of scorn ; 
And while thou dost, with barbarous care, 
Th' illusive guise of feeling wear, 

Tho 5 Pity's garb thy breast adorn, 
~ She never enters there ! 



34 

MADRIGAL. 

(SPANISH.) 

(e Mi coracon me han roubado 

'* Y Amor viendo mis enojos," &c. 

The heart that warm'd my guileless breast 
Some wanton hand had thence convey'd, 

But Love, who saw his bard distress'd, 
In pity thus the thief betray'd— - 

fi 'Tis she who owns the fairest mien 

" And sweetest eyes that e'er were seen!" 

And sure if Love be in the right, 
(And was love ever in the wrong?) 

To thee, my first and sole delight, 

That simple heart must now belong — 

— Because thou hast the fairest mien, 

And sweetest eyes that e'er were seen ! 

This is one of the^many poems which Camoens originally 
wrote in Spanish. There are some of his compositions of a 
more motley description, in which he blends two languages 
together, and walks, as he expresses it, " with one foot in 
Portugal and the other in Spain.'' Com hum pe a Portue- 
gueza, outro a Gastelhana. 



35 



MADRIGAL, 

" Nao me bus cays, Amor ligeyro 
" Nao me buscays," &c. 

Pr'ythee, Cupid, hence— desist— • 
Why should I increase the list 
Of boys, whose sole delights consist 
In kissing, and in being kiss'd ? 

Starlight eyes, and heaving snows, 
Lips, young rivals of the rose, 
Rounded limbs, and folding arms, 
Dreams of undiscover'd charms, 

Bound their witchery once about me ; 

But, their prisoner now is free, 

Since on every side I see. 
There are fools enough without me ! 

Pr'ythee, Cupid, hence — desist— 
Why should I increase the list? 

Matos, in one of his letters, quotes this little Poem as 
the production of C am o ens, and on that authority only it is 
here inserted. 



36 

CANZONET. 
(SPANISH.) 

" Tiempo ! que todo mudas, 
" El verde manto que," &c. 

Flow'rs are fresh, and bushes green, 

Cheerily the linnets sing ; 
Winds are soft, and skies serene; 

Time, however, soon shall throw 
Winter's snow 
O'er the buxom breast of Spring. 

Hope that buds in Lover's heart, 

Lives not through the scorn of years; 
Time makes Love itself depart, 

Time and scorn congeal the mind ; 
Looks unkind 
Freeze Affection's warmest tears ! 



Our poet has managed this trite and common sentiment 
in his happiest manner. Nothing is more frequent in Proven* 
gal poetry than g-ay and romantic descriptions of Spring, 
f * wherein eche thynge reneweth, saue onelie the Louer." 

Surry. 



Time shall make the bushes green. 

Time dissolve the winter-snow, 
Winds be soft, and skies serene, 

Linnets sing their wonted strain, 
But again, 
Blighted Love shall never blow ! 



38 



CANZONET. 

(vide remarks on cam o ens, page 11.)' 

(C Polo meu apartamento 
<c Se arrazao," &c. 

I whisper'd her my last adieu, 
I gave a mournful kiss ; 

Cold show'rs of sorrow bath'd her eyes, 
And her poor heart was torn with sighs; 
Yet — strange to tell — 'twas then I knew 
Most perfect bliss. — 

For Love, at other times suppress'd, 
Was all betray'd at this — 

I saw him weeping in her eyes, 
I heard him breathe amongst her sighs, 
And ev'ry sob which shook her breast, 
Thrill'd mine with bliss. 

The sight which keen Affection clears, 
How can it judge amiss? 

To me, it pictur'd hope ; and taught 
My spirit this consoling thought, 
That Love's sun, though it rise in tears, 
May set in bliss I 



39 



RONDEAU, 



" Com Amor a rosa, 
" Que tao fresca," &c. 



Just like Love is yonder rose, 
Heavenly fragrance round it throws, 
Yet tears its dewy leaves disclose, 
And in the midst of briars it blows, 
Just like Love. 

CulPd to bloom upon the breast, 
Since rough thorns the stem invest, 
They must be gather'd with the rest 
And with it, to the heart be prest, 
Just like Love. 



Perhaps this little Poem, in its present form, has no very 
just claim to the title which it bears. Like the preceding" 
one, it seems to have been suggested by a hint of Ausias 
March, a Troubadour. 

Sweet is love, and sweet is the rose, 
Each has a fiow'r, and each has a thorn; 
Roses die when the cold wind blows, 
Love, it is kill'd by lady's scorn! 



40 

And when rude hands the twin-buds sever? 
They die — and they shall blossom never, 
—Yet the thorns be sharp as ever, 
Just like love, 



41 



STANZAS. 

" Os bos vi sempre passar 
" No mundo," &c 

I saw the virtuous man contend 

With life's unnumber'd woes ; 
And he was poor— without a friend— 

Press'd by a thousand foes. 

I saw the Passions' pliant slave 

In gallant trim, and gay ; 
His course was Pleasure's placid wave? 

His life, a summer's day. — 

These fine moral lines are remarkable for their extreme 
simplicity. The third Stanza probably alludes to one of those 
little transgressions of which our Poet was often guilty, but 
of which he seldom repented. The commentators suppose 
that it relates to a negro girl, of whom he was passionately 
fond. They endeavour to defend the irregularity of his taste 
by comparing it to the penchant of the wisest of men for the 
dusky Queen of Sheba. 

This negro slave was named Joanna, and to her C amoens 
addressed some pretty verses, beginning, 

The captive which Victory gave to my arms 
Has prison'd my soul in the chain of her charms ; 
So I soothe her with gentle good-humour, that she, 
In return, may be more than good-humour'd to me ! &c. 
D 2 



42 

And I was caught in Folly's snare* 
And joined her giddy train — 

But found her soon the nurse of Care, 
And Punishment, and Pain. 

There surely is some guiding powV 
Which rightly suffers wrong — 

Gives Vice to bloom its little hour — 
But Virtue, late and long ! 



43 



CANZONET. 



"Estasse a primavera trasladada 
(i Em vossa vista, 5 ' &c. 



Spring in gay and frolic hour, 
Deck'd my love from many a flow'r ; 
Bade young hyacinths diffuse 
O'er her locks their scented dews ; 
Plac'd the violet's darker dyes 
In her all-imperial eyes ; 



A mistress composed of flowers is by no means a rarity in 
the garden of the Muses. Our own Spenser has quaintly pur- 
sued this thought*. 

u Her lippes did smell like unto gilliflowers, 
<( Her ruddie cheeks like unto roses red ; 
" Her snowy browes like budded beilamours, 
" Her lovelie een like pinkes but newlie spred ; 
" Her goodlie bosome like a strawberrie bed ; 
" Her neck like to a bunch of cullambines, 
" Her brest like Tillies 'ere their leaves be shed, 
" Her nipples like young blossom'd jessamines." &c. 

It must be confessed that the 4th and 6th lines of this 
fanciful Sonnet convey strange ideas of the lady's charms- 

* Sonnet 64: And Shakspeare, Sonnet 99, 



44 

Made her glowing cheek display- 
Roses, just their prime attaining ; 
But reserv'd the buds for staining 

Lips, as fresh and firm as they ! 

Dear one 1 he whose amorous suit 
Fain would turn thy blooms to fruit; 
Does he merit thus from thee, 
Piercing thorns of cruelty ? 



45 



CANZON. 



" Quando o sol encuberto vay mostrando 
" Ao mundo a luz quieta," &c. 



When day has smil'd a soft farewel, 
And night-drops bathe each shutting bell, 
And shadows sail along the green. 
And birds are still, and winds serene, 
I wander silently. 



Imitated from the 34th Sonnet. The translator humbly 
presumed, that the graces of this charming little Poem would 
appear to greater advantage in its present form than in that 
of a Sonnet. 

The creative powers of fancy, during the absence of a 
mistress, form afavourite subject of Pro vencal poetry. There 
is a very comical story somewhere, of a fastidious gallant, 
whose perverted imagination conjured up circumstances., 
that finally put Love to death. 

Camoens seems to have taken the hint of this Poem 
from Petrarch, Sonnet 90. 

— Sennuccio i v6 che sappi, &c, 
Laura mi volve — 

Qui tutta umile e qui la vidi altera, 
Or aspra, or piana, or dispietata, or pia, 
Orvestirsi,&c. &c. 



46 

And while my lone step prints the dew, 
Dear are the dreams that bless my view, 
To Memory's eye the maid appears, 
For whom have sprung my sweetest tears, 
So oft, so tenderly : 



And Petrarch was, perhaps, indebted for the idea to 
Ovid. Fast. 2. 769. 

Carpitur attonitos absentis imagine sensus 
Ille : recordanti plura magisque placent : 

Sic sedit, sic culta fait, sic stamina nevit, 
Neglectae collo sic jacuere comae ; 

Hos habuit vultus, haec illi verba fuerunt, 
Hie color, hsec facies, hie decor oris erat ; 

Sic quamvis aberat placitae prsesentia formae, 
Quae dederat praesens forma manebat amor. 

IMITATED. 

Strange is the pow'r of thought — oft Memory seems 

To view the maid in visionary dreams, 

Or bending o'er the loom with patient care, 

Her white neck shaded by descending hair, 

Or when her song the lapse of time beguiles, 

Or sagely sad, or ripen'd into smiles ; 

The same that blush, the same that faultless grace, 

The same those gay bewitcheries of face ; 

— Love deems her near — and hangs upon the form, 

Which fancy draws — as wishing and as warm ! 



47 - 

I see her, as with graceful care 
She binds her braids of sunny hair ; 
I feel her harp's melodious thrill 
Strike to my heart— and thence be still 
Re-echo'd faithfully: 

I meet her mild and quiet eye, 
Drink the warm spirit of her sigh, 
See young Love beating in her breast, 
And wish to mine it's pulses prest, 

God knows how fervently ! 

Such are my hours of dear delight, 
And morn but makes me long for night, 
And think how swift the minutes flew, 
When last amongst the dropping dew, 
I wander'd silently, 



48 



MADRIGAL. 



' ** Nunca manhaa suave 

" Estendendo seus rayos," &c* 

Dear is the blush of early light 
To him who ploughs the pathless deep, 
When winds have rav'd throughout the night. 
And roaring tempests banish'd sleep- 
Dear is the dawn, which springs at last, 
And shows him all his peril past. 

IMITATED FROM THE BEGINNING OF THE FIFTH ODE. 

Boscan, a celebrated Spanish Poet, has a thought some- 
what similar. 

Como despues del tempestoso dia 

La tarde clara suele ser sabrosa, 

Y despues de la noche tenebrosa, 
El resplandor del Sol plazer embia ; 
Assi en su padecer el alma mia 

Con la tarde del bien es tan gozosa, 8cc 

Sweet is evening's tranquil time, 

When the day of storms is done ; 
Sweet the clear cold hour of prime, 

Night just scatter'd by the sun ; 
— Sweet — but sweeter far to me, 
The dawn of hope diffus'd by thee ! 



49 

Dearer to me the break of day, 
Which thus thy bended eye illumes ; 
And chasing fear and doubt away, 
Scatters the night of mental glooms, 
And bids my spirit hope at last, 
A rich reward for peril past ! 



50 



MADRIGAL. 

" Quern se confia em hus olhos 
" Nas meninas delles ve," &c. 

The simple youth who trusts the fair, 
Or on their plighted truth relies, 

Might learn how vain such follies were, 
By looking in his lady's eyes, 
And catch a hint, if timely wise, 

From those dumb children, cradled there ! 



The same term in Portuguese signifies both the pupil of 
the eye and a child. Hence the turn of this fanciful poem. 
Numberless and wretched have been the concetti to which 
this unfortunate pun has given birth. In our own language, 
something of the same kind has been attempted by Dr. 
Donne : 

" So to engraft our handes as yet, 

iC Was all the meanes to make us one, 

" And pictures in our eyes to get 
" Was all our propagation." 

THE ECSTACY. 

Donne's was the age of quaintness, and it is surprising 
that this idea has not been more ramified and tortured by the 
English metaphysical poets of that school. 



51 

H Poor fool 1 thy wayward feats forbear,' 3 
(Those mute advisers seem to say) 

" And hence with sighs, and tears, and care, 
" For thou but fling' st thy heart away, 
u To make a toy—for babies' play." 



52 



CANZONET. 

" Na5 sei quern assella 
" Vossa fermosura." &c. 

Thou hast an eye of tender blue, 
And thou hast locks of Daphne's hue, 
And cheeks that shame the morning's break, 
And lips that might for redness make 

Roses seem pale beside them ; 
But whether soft or sweet as they, 
Lady ! alas, I cannot say, 

For I have never tried them. 



Some of the comment of Faria has been introduced into 
the translation of this poem, and certain very necessary 
liberties taken with the original. 

" Thou bast an eye" &c. Notwithstanding, all that has 
been said, and all that has been written to disprove the ex- 
istence of a real and positive standard of beauty, were we to 
argue from the universality of poetical taste in every age, 
we should place the essence of female loveliness in the de- 
scription before us. — Locks of auburn and eyes of blue have 
ever been dear to the sons of song. The Translator almost 
ventures to doubt whether these two ideas do not enter into 
every combination of charms created by the poetical mind. 
The former are almost constantly accompanied by the ad- 
vantages of complexion, and by that young freshness which 



53 

Yet, thus created for delight, 
Lady ! thou art not lovely quite, 
For dost thou not this maxim know, 
That Prudery is Beauty's foe, 

A stain that mars a jewel ! 
And e'en that woman's angel face, 
Loses a portion of its grace, 

If woman's heart be cruel ! 

Love is a sweet and blooming boy, 
Yet glowing with the blush of joy, 
And (still in youth's delicious prime) 
Tho' ag'd as patriarchal Time, 

The withering god despises : 
Lady ! would'st thou for ever be 
As fair, and young, and fresh as he- 
Do all that Love advises ! 



defies the imitation of art. Sterne even considers them as 
indicative of moral qualities the most amiable, and asserts 
that they denote exuberance in all the warmer, and conse- 
quently, in all the better feelings of the human heart. The 
Translator does not wish to deem this opinion as wholly 
unfounded. He is, however, aware of the danger to which 
such a confession exposes him, — but he flies for protection to 
the temples of 

" Aurea Venus." 



e 2 



54 



STANZAS. 

" Trabalhos descansariao 

" Se para vos trabalhasse," &c. 

Yes — labour, love! and toil would please, 
Were toil and labour borne for thee ; 

And Fortune's nursling, lap'd on ease. 
In wealth of heart be poor to me 1 

Why should I pant for sordid gain? 

Or why Ambition's voice believe ? 
Since, dearest, thou dost not disdain 

The only gift I have to give. 

Time would with speed of lightning flee. 
And every hour a comfort bring, 

And days and years, employ 'd for thee, 
Shake pleasures from their passing wing ! 



55 



CANZON. 



(SPANISH.) 



c Sepa, quien padece, 

; Que en la sepoltura," &c. 



O weep not thus — we both shall know 

Ere long a happier doom ; 
There is a place of rest below, 
Where thou and I shall surely go, 
And sweetly sleep, releas'd from woe 
Within the tomb* 

My cradle was the couch of Care, 

And Sorrow rock/d me in it ; 
Fate seem/d her saddest robe to wear, 
On the first day t^iat saw me there, 
And darkly shadow'd with despair 

My earliest minute* 



56 

E'en then the griefs I now possess, 

As natal boons were given ; 
And the fair form of Happiness, 
Which hover'd round, intent to bless, 
Scar'd by the phantoms of distress, 

Flew back to heaven ! 

Fori was made in Joy's despite, 

And meant for Misery's slave ; 
And all my hours of brief delight 
Fled, like the speedy winds of night, 
Which soon shall wheel their sullen flight 
Across my grave ! 



57 

CANZON. 

(SPANISH.) 

" Pues me distes tal herida 

" Con gana de darme muerte," &c. 

When I am done to death by thee, 

And cold thy lover lies; 
Turn to me, dear one ; turn and see 

Thy beauty's sacrifice! 

Turn to me, dear — and haply then 

Thy looks may life restore ; 
And teach the heart to beat again, 

That beat for thee before ! 

Turn to me, dear! and should a gem, 

On those soft eyelids shine- 
Fall holy balm— fall fast from them 
In showers, and waken mine.— 

Turn — and from lips that breathe of May, 

If one kind kiss be given, — 
He who in deathly slumber lay, 

Slept — but to wake in Heaven ! 



58 



CANZONET. 

" Os olhos socegados," &c. 

Lady! when with glad surprise, 
I meet thy soft and shaded eyes. 
Or lost in dreams of love behold, 
Thy waving locks of darken'd gold, 
Or press thy lip, whose dew discloses 
Sweets, that seem the breath of roses, 
Lady ! I sigh — and with a tear, 
Swear earth is heav'n — if thou art near I 

But when (the hour of transport o'er) 
My soul's delight is seen no more, 
Remembering all thy host of charms, 
I tremble then with wild alarms ; 

And, taught by jealous doubt, discover 
In every gazing youth, a lover ; 



This Poem is attributed to Cam o ens on very slight au- 
thority. It is certainly a curious specimen of the doggish 
jealousy too often found in the amours of his country. 



59 



Confessing with a silent tear. 

That heaven and hell are wond'rous near ! 

<c That Heaven is viond 9 rous near /" This sentiment stri- 
kingly resembles some lines of Guillem Ae$mer 9 an old Pro- 
vencaiToet. 

" Quant eu li quier merce en genoillos 

" Ela mi colpa, et mi met ochaisos 

" E i'aigua m' car ave'l per mer lo vis 

" E ela me fai ung regard amoros 

■* Et eule bais la bucha, e'l's ols am'dos 

" — Adoncq mi par ungjoi de Paradis!*" 

IMITATED. 
When at her feet I long have pray'd 

With pleading eloquence of sighs, 
What bliss to hear the melting maid, 

In lowly murmurs bid me — " Rise." — 

How all my bosom-pulses beat 
When with a kiss I seal her eyes ! 

My soul springs forth her soul to meet, 
—They meet and mix — in Paradise ! 

* Tyrwhitt's Chancer. Glos« s 



60 



CANZON. 

m 

" Se as penas com que Amor ta5 mal me trata 
" Permiterem que eu tanto viva dellas," &x. 

Should I but live a little more, 
Nor die beneath thy cold disdain, 

These eyes shall see thy triumphs o'er, 
Shall see the close of Beauty's reign. 



The shortness of life, says one of our most elegant 
writers, is equally favourable to the arguments of the volup- 
tuary and of the moralist. Every hard-hearted fair one, from 
the beginning of time, has been reminded that 

" La Beaulte n'est ung fruictde garde." 

This Canzon seems to have been suggested by part of 
the 63d Chant, of Ausias March, the Provencal Poet. 

" No sabea prou si leixau temps fugir 

" — Et temps perdut no polt ester cobrat," &c. 

Did ever yet a moment stay 

To please the dallying lover ? 
And who that lost the lucky day 

Could e'er that loss recover ? &c. &c. 



61 

For Time's transmuting hand shall turn 
Thy locks of gold to " silvery wires ;" 

Those starry lamps shall cease to burn, 
As now, with more than heav'nly fires, 

Thy ripen'd cheek no longer wear 
The ruddy blooms of rising dawn ; 

And every tiny dimple there 
In wrinkled lines be roughly drawn! 

And oh ! what show'rs of fruitless woe 

Shall fall upon that fatal day — 
How wilt thou weep the frequent " no/' 

How mourn occasion past away I — 

Those vain regrets, and useless sighs, 
Shall in my heart no pity move— 

I '11 deem them but a sacrifice 
Due to the shade of buried Love ! 

" Thy locks of gold," &c. So Bembo, 

Cl Quando le chiome d'or caro e lucente 
Saranno arg-ente," &c. 

The Translator has, in this place, taken a line from 
Drummond. 



62 

" Those vain regrets" &c Gil Polo, a Spanish Poet, 
prettily treats this thought in his Diana, lib. ii. 

" Porque toma tal vinganca, 

f{ De vosotras el amor, 

" Que entonces os da dolor 

" Quando os falta la esperanga !' 

Thy pride of charms shall all decay, 
And thou shalt then its forfeit pay, 
And vainly weep thy former scorn, 

Thy thousand lovers' slighted pray'rs, — 
— And grief shall in thy heart be born, 

When love is dead in their's ! 



63 



STANZAS. 



TO NIGHT, 



4< Segreda noite Amiga, a que obedeco, 
*' As rosas," &c. 



Night ! to thee my vows are paid ; 
Not that e'er thy quiet shade 
Me, in bower of dalliance laid 

Blest and blessing, covers ! 
No — for thy friendly veil was made 
To shroud successful lovers ; 
And I, Heaven knows, 
Have never yet been one of those 
Whose love has prov'd a thornless rqse ! 
But since (as piteous of my pain) 
Goddess ! when I to thee complain 
Of truth despis'd, and hard disdain, 

These Stanzas are the conclusion of an Ode to the Moon, 
and are the only part of it which is worth the trouble of 
translation. 



64 

Thou dost so mutely listen ; 
For this, around thy solemn fane 

Young buds I strew, that glisten 
With tears of woe 
By jealous Tithon made to flow, 
From Morning — thine eternal foe! 



" Young buds I streiv" &c The classical offering of 
flowers to Night seems to have been suggested by B. Tasso. 
Mime, Lib. ii. Can. 3. 

" Notte ! che debbo darte 
" Che cosi intenta, e cheta 
" Ascolti le mie voci alta e noiose ? 
" Poiche d'altro honorarte 
" Non posso, prendi lieta 
n Queste negre viole e queste rose 
* DalP umor rugiadose," &c. 

Night ! since thy pensive ear did not disdain 
The weeping lover's sadly dittied strain, 
Large gifts of gratitude to thee he owes, 
Who kindly listen'd to his tale of woes. — 
Be generous still — his little all receive, 
All that a Poet's humble hands can give ; 
Young violets that boast celestial blue, 
And budding roses, newly dipt in dew ! 

ie By jealous Tithon," &c The tears of Aurora are fre- 
quently mentioned by poets, but it was reserved for Phineaa 
Fletcher to give a natural explication of them — 



65 



" Aurora from old Tithon's frostie bed, 
(( (Cold wintrie withered Tithon) earlie creepes, 
" Her cheek with grief was pale, with anger red, 
" Out of her window close she blushing peepes, 
€f Her weeping eyes in pearled dew she steepes, 
" Casting what sportiesse nights she ever led," 

Eglogue vii. 

(The Prize. J 



9 2 



66 

CANZON. 

" Arvore ! que brando e bello/' &e. 



Thou pride of the forest! whose dark branches 
spread 
To the sigh of the south-wind their tremulous 
green, 
And the tinge of whose buds is as rich and as red 
As the mellowing blushes of maiden eighteen ! 

IMITATED FROM THE XXXVI. SON. OF THE SECOND 
CENTURY. 

The tree to which these luies are addressed, seems from 
the description to have been the Durio. It is a species of 
apple-tree, which grows to an immense size, and to the fruit 
of which that quality is attributed, which the ancients for- 
merly assigned to the Lotos. Sousa. 

" As the ?nello c wz7ig blushes," &c The luxuriance of fe- 
male charms furnishes our Poet with some of his happiest 
allusions. In particular, that most celebrated simile in the 
9th Lusiad : 

" Os fermosos limoes, alii cheirando 
" Estao virgineas tetas imitando." 

Here balmy citrons scent the whisp'ring grove, 
Round as the virgin's rising' breasts of love . 



67 

O'er thee may the tempest in gentleness blow, 
And the lightnings of Summer pass harmlessly 
by; 

For ever thy buds keep their mellowing glow, 
Thy branches still wave to the southernly sigh, 

Because in thy shade, as I lately reclin'd, 
The sweetest of visions arose to my view ; 

Twas the swoon of the soul — 'twas the transport 
of mind — 
'Twas the happiest minute that ever I knew. 

For this shalt thou still be my favourite tree,— + 
In the heart of the poet thou never canst fade ; 

It shall often be warm'd by remembering thee, 
And the dream which I dreamt in thy tremu- 
lous shade. 



68 



CANZONET. 



c Eu cantey ja, a agora," &c. 



How sprightly were the roundelays 
I sang in Love's beginning days ; 
—Now, alas, I but deplore 
Death of all that blest before ! 

Then my heart was in its prime, 
{'Twas Affection's budding-time!) 
— It is broken now — and knows 
One sense only — sense of woes ! 

So Petrarch, Sonn. 194. 

" Cantai — or piango, e non men di dolcezza 
" Del pianger prendo, che del canto presi," &c. 

Gay were my songs — now tears will only flow 9 
And all my bliss is center'd but in woe ! 



69 

Joy was whilom dash'd with ill, 
Yet my songs were cheerful still; 
— They were like the captive's strains. 
Chaunted to the sound of chains ! 



" Like the captive^s strains 

<{ Chaunted to the sound of chains /" 

Imitated from Tibullus Eleg. vii. b. 2. 

•' Spes etiam valida solatur compede vinctum, 
u Crura sonant ferro, sed canit inter opus : 

For Hope can soothe the wearied prisoners pains* 
And turn to melody the clank of chains ; 
Consol'd by her, while harsh the fetter rings 
He thinks of happier days, and g"aily sing's, 



70 



CANZON. 



A minha dor, e o nome," &c» 



Why should I indiscreetly tell 
The name my heart has kept so well? 
Why to the senseless crowd proclaim 
For whom ascends my bosom-flame? 

Alas, there are but very few 

"W ho feel as I for ever do — 

And hear, with shrinking sense of pain, 

Holy words from lips profane ! 

For she is holy in my sight 
As are the seraph forms of light ; 
And that blest name denotes whate'er 
Of good there be — or chaste — or fair. 



The chaste discretion of delicate Love is admirably 
pourtrayed in this little Poem. Happy for our Author had 
he always obeyed its dictates ! 



71 

Of her, in time of heaviest woe, 
I think, and tears forget to flow ; 
Of her, in passion's fervid dreams, 
And rapture's self the sweeter seems.— 

And shall the name, whose magic pow'r 
Throws light on every passing hour, 
Shall it, a word of usage grown, 
By every heartless fool be known ? 

No — let it, shrin'd within my breast, 
A little saint; forever rest, 
With pious ardours worshipp'd there 5 
Yet never mention'd, but in pray'r! 



72 



CANZONET. 

" A DAMA QJJE JURAVA PELOS SEUS OLHOs" 

THE LADY WHO SWORE BY HER EYES. 

" Quando me quiz enganar 
"< A minha bella perjura," &c. 

When the girl of my heart is on perjury bent, 
The sweetest of oaths hides the falsest intent, 
And Suspicion abash'd, from her company flies, 
When she smiles likes an angel — -and swears by 
her eyes. 

For in them such magic, she knows, is displayed, 
That a tear can convince, and a look can persuade % 

" The lady luho swore by her eyes." Such asseverations 
were not unusual in the days of chivalry. They are frequent- 
ly mentioned in the Tales of the Troubadours. In the Lai of 
Courtoys there is a p particular instance. " Est ant couschez en 
" lictf la belle dame li faict sermen, e diet, par ma Jleor, diet 
<( e//e,ePAR cils yeulx^" taut estimes, &c. The modest 
reader must not expect the remainder of this strange adju- 
ration, which is a continued medley of pious phrases and sen- 
timents by no means analogous. 



73 

And she thinks that I dare not, or cannot, refuse 
To believe on their credit whate'er she may choose. 

But I 've learn'd from the painful experience of 

youth. 
That vehement oaths never constitute truth ; 
And I 've studied those treacherous eyes, and I find 
They are mutable signs of a mutable mind! 

Then, dear one, I M rather, thrice rather believe 
Whate'er you assert, even though to deceive, 
Than that you " by your eyes" should so wickedly 

swear, 
And sin against heaven-— for heaven is there ! 



74 

PART OF THE THIRD ELEGY. 

w O Sulmonense Ovidio desterrado 
" Na aspereza," &c. 

When that sweet bard, to whose harmonious hand 
Love's golden harp in softest warblings sigh'd, 
By stars unkind was too severely tried, 
And forc'd afar from Rome's parental land 
To pace with weary step the Pontic strand; 

What a cold rush of recollections came 
Across the exile's sad and sinking mind, 
When Memory drew the joys he left behind ! 
Her, who so long had fann'd his chaster flame, 
His babes — his home— and all that charm'd before, 
And all that blest him once, — but ne'er shall bless 
him more. 



The Elegy from which these lines are taken, was proba- 
bly written by Camoens at Santarem, whither he had been 
banished. The circumstances of his exile, and the cause of 
it, produced a natural comparison between his fate and that 
of Ovid. 

* He who so long," &c. 
" His babes," &c. 

In the third Epistle from Pontus, Ovid thus unfashiona- 
bly laments the absence of his wife. 



75 

Poor banish'd wretch ! — he had not pow'rs to bear 

The vast, unutterable pangs of thought ; 

But still in woods, and wilds, and caverns sought 
A secret covert from the murderer Care ; 
Now slowly wandering through the midnight air, 

In briar'd dell he roams, or pathless grove, 
While vainly sings the mellow nightingale, 
Unheard by him— ^although she chaunt a tale 

So like his own— «so sad— so full of love— 
Clos'd are his ears — and dim his moisten'd eyes 
That view with dull regard the cold and starry skies. 



f ,.Utque sit exigiium pcense, qudd conjuge charsi 
" Quod careo patria, pignoribusque meis." 

'Tis mine to mourn the cherish'd joys of life ; 
Mourn for my distant country — children— wife. 



76 



CANZONET, 



Nao nos engane a riqueza, 
; Porqu," &c. 



Since in this dreary vale of tears 

No certainty but death appears, 

Why should we waste our vernal years 

In hoarding useless treasure? 

No— «let the young and ardent mind 
Become the friend of human kind, 
And in the generous service find 

A source of purer pleasure I 

Better to live despis'd and poor, 
Than Guilt's eternal stings endure ; 
The future smile of God shall cure 

The wound of earthly woes. 

Vain world ! did we but rightly feel 

What ills thy treacherous charms conceal, 

How would we long from thee to steal 

To Death— and sweet repose! 



77 **fc 

CANZON. 

** Vi o 111090 e pequenino," &c. 

I met Love wandering o'er the wild, 
In semblance of a simple child ; 
I heard his name, and in the sound 
So much of sweet persuasion found, 
That, piteous of his tears, I prest 
The little darling to my breast, 
And watch'd his quiet slumbers there, 
With all a father's tender care ! 

From day to day the orphan grew, 
And with him my affection too ; 
Till at the last, around my mind 
The winning boy so closely twin'd, 
I learnt his baby form to prize, 
Like one of those within mine eyes, 

Among" the numerous imitations of Anacreon's Wander- 
ing Cupid, there is none in which the playful character of 
boyhood has been so well preserved as it is in this little Poem. 
The destruction of the flowers is an act of mere childish mis- 
chief, which admirably accords with " the young- adopted's" 
age. 

o 2 



78 

And lov'd the young adopted more 
Than ever sire did son before 1 

I had a bank of favourite flow'rs 
Which blossom'd e'en in wintry hours. 
Content, the bosom's thornless rose, 
And innocence, and heart's repose ; 
— Love, like a rude and wanton boy, 
Broke into my bow'rs of joy, 
Tore Content's young roses thence, 
Kiii'd repose and innocence 1 

Ah wretch I what mischief hast thou done 
To him who lov'd thee like a son i 
How couldst thou dim the doating eyes 
Which did thee like their babies prize ? 
How break the heart of him who prest 
Thee, cold and weeping to his breast, 
And watch'd thy quiet slumbers there, 
With all a father's tender care ? 

U His Baby form, 9 ' — 

tc Like one of those ivithin mine eyes 99 Camoens is pas- 
sionately fond of this allusion. It has been fancifully pur- 
sued by one of the most original of our modern Poets.* 

* Little's Poems, p. 51 . 



79 

CANZON. 
"EL PEQUENO SONRISO.'* 

FROM RIACHUELO. 

TO INES DE GUETE. 

Dear Ines, wouldst thou but believe - 
A heart that knows not to deceive, 

(Alas nor longer free ;) 
That faithful heart should truly tell 
The secret charm, the tender spell, 

That bound it first to thee. 

'Tis not, that cradled in thine eyes 
The baby Love for ever lies 

On couches dipp'd in dew; 
'Tis not because those eyes have won 
Their temper'd light from April's sun, 

From Heaven their tints of blue ! 

3 Tis not that o'er a bank of snow 
Thy parted tresses lightly flow, 



80 

In waves of lucid gold; 
Nor yet because the hand of grace 
Has form'd that dear enchanting face 

In beauty's happier mould I 

It was not these — but from my soul, 
It was a little smile that stole* 

The cherish'd sweets of rest ; 
And ever since, from dawn to night 
And night to dawn, it haunts my sight, 

In dimples gaily drest. 

E'en now by Fancy's eyes are seen 
The polish'd rows that break between 

Two lips that breathe of Mayt ; 
E'en now— but oh, by Passion taught, 
Young Fancy forms too bold a thought 

For timorous Love to say ! 

* This sentiment is very like some beautiful lines of Cle- 
ment Marot. 

Du ris de Madame d' Allebret. 

*' Elle ha tres bien cette gorge d' albastre, 

" Ce doulx parler, ce clair tainct, ce beaulx yeux, 
** Mais en effect, ce petit ris follastre 

" C'est a mon gr ece qui luy seid le mieux." 
f Literally, t( De sangre y lee he pintados." This simile, 
which in our language would convey any idea but that of beau- 



81 

Yet, lues— wouldst thou but believe 
A heart that knows not to deceive, 

(Alas! nor longer free;) 
'Twould tell thee, thou canst ne'er impart 
A smile of thine to sooth a heart 

More truly bound to thee i 



ty, is nevertheless very common in Spanish Poetry. C am o ens 
too has frequently adopted it. 



SONNETS. 



Amongst other reasons why the legitimate Italian Son- 
net be not suitable to the genius of the English language, the 
following is not the least forcible. In those languages which 
are more immediately formed on the Latin, there is a frequent 
similarity of termination, which greatly facilitates the use of 
rhyme. Accordingly, the Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese 
languages (which originate from that source) have adopted 
the licence of polysyllabic rhyme, and with it the Sonnets , 
The former was a liberty which they could scarcely have 
avoided, but which has never been sanctioned by the " Musce 
severiores" of England. To us, therefore, the mechanical 
arrangement of a Sonnet becomes a matter of peculiar diffi- 
culty. 

Some of the Spanish poets have laid down a collection of 
rules for the construction of Sonnets, so pompous and so par- 
ticular, that it seems as if they considered that species of com- 
position as the sublimest effort of human ingenuity. In all 
the oracular obscurity of Portuguese metaphor we are told, 
that a Sonnet should "be opened with a key of silver, and 
closed with one of gold I" 6>ue ha o Soneto de abrirse com chave 
deprata, efecharse com chave de ouro*. 

* Trat. de Vers. Portug. Em Lisboa 1781. 12mch 



87 



SONNET I. 

" O ciilto divinal se celebrava 
" No templo donde," &c. 

Sweetly was heard the anthem's choral strain, 
And myriads bow'd before the sainted shrine, 
In solemn reverence to their Sire divine, 
Who gave the Lamb, for guilty mortals slain : 
When, in the midst of God's eternal fane, 



Love delights to recal the circumstances of its earlier ex- 
istence; and to Camoens those earlier remembrances were 
certainly the pleasantest. 

" When in the midst" &c This event, from the internal 
evidence of other Poems, appears to have taken place on 
Holy Thursday, 1542, in that church at Lisbon, which is de- 
dicated to the " Wounds of Christ." If we compute according* 
to the calendar then in use, we shall be able to ascertain the 
exact day on which our Poet's passion commenced. He tells 
us in the 7th Canzon, that it began " when the sun was en- 
tering Taurus." Before the Gregorian alteration, that in- 
gress was settled to be on the 10th of April. Holy Thursday, 
in the year 1542, happened on the 11th of April. There is 
a class of readers to whom the omission of this point would 
have appeared unpardonable, and for their instruction the 
Translator has investigated it. 



88 

(Ah little weening of his fell design !) 

Love bore the heart (which since hath ne'er 
been mine) 
To one, who seeni'd of heav'n's elected train ! 
For sanctity of place or time were vain, 

'Gainst that blind archer's soul-consuming pow'r, 
Which scorns, and soars all circumstance above. 
Oh, Lady ! since I 've worn thy gentle chain, 

How oft have I deplor'd each wasted hour, 
When I was free — and had not learn'd to love ! 



P • — each wasted hour — " 
" When I iv as free," Istc. 

Faria says that Camoens was indebted for this idea to 
Silvestre, a Spanish Poet. 

" Tan preciosa es mi prision, 

" Soy tan bien aprisionado, 
iC Que pido reconvencion, 

" Del tiempo que no lo he estado I" 

VISIT OF LOVE,. 

So delightful my prison had grown, 
So charming" the fetters I bore, 

That my bosom regretted alone 

<— It had not been captur'd before J 



89 



SONZET II. 



" O Cisne, quando sente ser chegada 
" A hora que poem," &c. 



While on the margin of his native shores, 
In death's cold hour the silver cygnet lies, 
Soft melodies of woe, and tuneful sighs, 



The Sonnets formed on this idea, both previous and sub- 
sequent to that of Camoens, are almost innumerable. It is 
probable that our Poet founded his on some lines in Garcii- 
asso. 

"Entonces como quando el Cisne siente 
" El ansia postrimera que le aquexa 
" Y tienta el cuerpo misero y doliente 
" Con triste e lamentable son se quexa 
" Y se despide con funesto canto 
" Del espirtu. vital que del se alexa ; 
" Assi aquexado yo de dolor tanto 
" Que el alma abandonava ya la humana 
" Came, solte la rienda al triste llanto." 

ECLOG. II, 

IMITATED. 
As pours the swan his melancholy strains, 
While death-pangs shudder thro' his freezing* veins, 

H 2 



90 

And lamentations wild, he plaintive pours, 

Still charm'd of life — and whilst he yet deplores k 

The drear, dark night that seals his closing eyes, 

In murmur'd grief for lost existence — dies I 
So, Lady, (thou, whom still my soul adores), 

While scarcely lingering in a world of pain, 
My wearied spirit treads the verge of death — 
O Lady, then thy Poet's parting breath 

Shall faintly animate his final song, 
To tell of broken vows-— and cold disdain — 

And unrequited love — and cruel wrong ! 



Just as existence wings her parting flight, 
And heart grows chill, and eyes are steep'd in night, 
He mourns for life, in lapses sad but strong, 
And his last accents faulter into song. 

So when I leave this dreary vale of woe, 

And love and grief have brought my spirit low, 

For thee, most fair — most lov'd — thee, most severe, 

For thee, thy bard shall weep his latest tear, 

And faintly utter with his failing breath, 

" 'Tis parting makes. the bitterness of death!" 

H And unrequited love and cruel wrong" The original con- 
cludes with a line of pure Spanish taken from Boscan. 

" La vuestra falsa fe, y el amor mio." 



91 



Such combinations of language are not unusual among 
the Poets of Italy, Portugal, and Spain. The following cu- 
rious medley is found in a Canzon of the immortal Dante. 

" Chanson ! vos pognez ir par tot le mond 
" Namque locutus sum in lingua trina, 
" Ut gravis mea spina, 

" Si faccia per lo mondo ogn' uomo il senta 
" Forse pieta n'havra chi me tormenta," &c. 

Our own Chaucer has likewise indulged in this practice, 

" pulchrior Sole in beautie, & full ylucidente \ n 
IX. ladies' worthie 



92 



SONNET III. 

" Agora toma a espada, agora a pena 
" Estacio nosso," &c. 

Eustace I or when you wield the ponderous 

spear, 
Or mingle in the bard's romantic throng, 

To you, eternal palms of fame belong ! 
To Mars alike, and to the Muses dear, 
Whether adown the waves of war you steer, 

Or sail upon the tranquil streams of song. 
O, if awhile, with cadence clear and strong, 
My reed might hope to charm your learned ear, 

All undebas'd by ought of pastoral sound, 
Then, Eustace, would that humble reed proclaim, 

How you (for valour as for verse renown'd) 

Shall win the warrior's and the poet's praise, 
And like a watch-tow'r on the steeps of fame, 

Show'r light upon the sons of distant days I 

This fine Sonnet is addressed to Estacio de Faria, grand- 
father to the Commentator on Camoens, who says of him, that 
" if not great in all things , he was little in none" 

" And like a watch-tower" The original contains a pun 
on the words Faro and Faria. 



93 



SONNET IV. 



" No mundo poucos anos e cansados 
" Vivi, cheos de vil miseria," &,c* 



Slowly and heavily the time has run 

Which I have journey 'd on this earthly stage; 
For, scarcely entering on my prime of age, 
Grief mark'd me for her own; ere yonder sun 
Had the fifth lustrum of my days begun : 

And since, ccmpulsive Fate and Fortune's rage 
Have led my steps a long, long pilgrimage 
In search of lost repose, but finding none ! 

For that fell star which o'er my cradle hung, 
Forc'd me from dear Alamquer's rustic charms, 
To combat perils strange and dire alarms, 



The touching melancholy of many of those compositions 
in which Camoens complains of his sorrows, becomes truly 
interesting when we consider, that he laments what he actu- 
ally suffered, that he was not fastidiously unhappy, but under- 
went real misery in its fullest extent. 

" To combat perils stra?ige" The original is not very 
graceful — " Me fez manjar de pelxes ;" literally, " had made 
mefoodforjishes" 



94 

'Midst that rough main, whose angry waters 
roar 
Rude Abyssinia's cavern'd cliffs among, 

•—Far from green Portugal's parental shore ! 



" Midst that rough main," he. Alluding not to the ship- 
wreck which he suffered in the Gulf of Cochin-China, but to 
the dangers encountered when he accompanied Manuel de 
Vasconcelos in an expedition against the Moorish Vessels in 
the Red Sea, about the month of,February, 1555. 

The Commentator Sousa, will not allow that this Sonnet 
relates to the life of Camoens. He supposes it to have been 
written by our Poet, but to be descriptive of the misfortunes 
of one of his friends and liberally bestows the epithets, "beast 
and fool," on those who presume to think otherwise. 



95 



SONNET V. 

(vide life of camoens, page 11.) 
" Aquella triste e leda madrugada," &c. 

Till Lovers' tears at parting cease to flow 

Nor sunder'd hearts by strong despair be torn; 

So long recorded be that April morn 
When gleams of joy were dash'd with show'rs of 

woe : 
Scarce had the purpling east began to glow, 

Of mournful men it saw me most forlorn ; 

Saw those hard pangs, by gentle bosoms borne, 
(The hardest sure that gentle bosoms know !) 
— But oh, it saw Love's charming secret told 
By tears fast dropping from celestial eyes, 



Written on the morning of our poets departure from Lis- 
bon to Santarem. 

" — Purpling orient)" &c. Literally " marchetada," in- 
laid. 



96 

By sobs of grief, and by such piteous sighs 

As e'en might turn th' infernal caverns cold, 
And make the guilty deem their sufferings ease, 
Their torments luxury— compar 5 d to these 1 



" As e'en might turn," Sec This fanciful rhodomontade 
^eems to have been suggested by Dante. 

" E commincio raggiandomi d'un riso 
" Tal, che nel fuoco, faria Puom felice !'; 

PARADISO, CANTO VII. V* 17". 



97 



SONNET VI. 



" Julgame a gente toda por perdido 

" Vendome tao entregue a meu cuydado," &c. 



My senses lost, misjudging men declare^ 

And Reason banish'd from her mental throne. 
Because I shun the crowd, and dwell alone 

In the calm trance of undisturb'd despair, 

Tears all my pleasure-— all my comfort care! 
But I have known, from long experience known, 
How vain the worship to those idols shown, 

Which charm the world, and reign unrivalPd 
there : 

Proud dreams of pow'r, and fortune's gilded glare, 
The lights that blaze in tall Ambition's tow'r, 



" My senses lost" &c Perhaps this complaint was more 
than poetically true. The assertion in question might have 
been occasioned by the noble independence of our Poet's dis- 
position, and by his undisguised contempt of titled ignorance 
and dignified barbarity. Such conduct will in all ages obtain 
tlie appellation of madness. 

I 



98 

For such, let others waste life's little hour 
In toil and weary search— but be it mine, 

Lady ! to muse of thee — and in my bow'r 
Pour to thy praise the soul-impassion'd line ! 



99 



SONNET VII. 



*' Se quando vos perdi, minha esperanca 
* f A memoriaperderajuntamente," &c. 



When from my heart the hand of Fortune tore 
Those smiling hopes that cheer'd mine earlier 

day, 
Would that she too had kindly borne away 

The sweetly sad remembrances of yore ! 

I should not then, as now, in tears deplore 
My buried bliss, and comfort's fast decay ; 



Bertaut, an old French Poet, hath expressed the same 
sentiment in a beautiful manner. 



Felicite passee 
Qui ne peux revenir, 

Tourment de ma pensee ! 
Que n'ay-je en te perdant, perdu le souvenir 

Helas, il ne me reste 
De mes contentemens, 
Qu' un souvenir funeste 
Qui me les convertit, a toute heure, en tourmens ! 

L.ofC. 



100 "• 

— For Love (on whom my vain dependance lay) 

Still lingering on delights that live no more, 
Kills all my peace — whene'er the tyrant sees 
My spirit taste a little hour of ease ! 

Fell star of fate ! thou never canst employ 
A torment teeming with severer smart 
Than that which Memory pours upon the heart 

While clinging round the sepulchre of joy ! 



y^'Jf 



101 



SONNET. 

" Claras agoas e frias do Mondego 
" Doce repouso," &c. 

Mondego ! thou, whose waters cold and clear 
Gird those green banks, where Fancy fain would 

stay, 
Fondly to muse on that departed day 

When Hope was kind, and Friendship seem'd 
sincere ; 

—Ere I had purchas'd knowledge with a tear. 

•—Mondego ! though I bend my pilgrim way 
To other shores, where other fountains stray, 

And other rivers roll their proud career, 

Still — nor shall time, nor grief, nor stars severe. 
Nor widening distance e'er prevail in aught 

To make thee less to this sad bosom dear; 
And Memory oft, by old Affection taught, 
Shall lightly speed upon the plumes of thought, 

To bathe amongst thy waters cold and clear ! 



The earliest and happiest years of our Poet's life were 
passed at Coimbra. The walls of that town were bathed by 
the river Mondego, to which this beautiful Sonnet is address- 
ed. 



I 2 



102 



SONNET IX. 



: Quern diz que amor he falso ou enganoso 
; Ligeyro ingrato," &c. 



Lives there a wretch, who would profanely dare 
On Love bestow a tyrant's barbarous name. 
And foe to every soft delight, proclaim 

His service, slavery; its wages, care? 

For ever may he prove it so, nor e'er 

Feel the dear transports of that generous flame ; 
For him nor maiden smile, nor melting dame 

The silent couch of midnight bliss prepare 1 

For much he wrongs the gentlest, best of 
powers. 

Whose very pangs can charm, and torments please, 

It is amusing to observe our Poet's recantation of all his 
blasphemies against the omnipotence of Love. Perhaps, if 
every man who has felt its influence, were to be equally can- 
did, he would confess that his sweetest hours were those which 
were passed under its dominion. " Croyez moi, on rCest heu- 
reux que par ¥ amour.'' So said the dangerous Valmont, and 
once, at least, the dangerous Valmont was right ! 



103 

Whom long I 've known, and m whose angriest 
hours 
Such rapture found, as would I not forego, 
No — not forego, for all the dead, cold ease 

Which dull Indifference could e'er bestow I 



104 



SONNET X. 

" Dizei Senhora, da belleza idea 
" Parafazerdes," &c 

Come, tell me, fairest, from what orient mine 
Where undiscover'd lurk the springs of day, 
Did thy triumphant tresses steal away 

Their sunny tinges, and their hues divine ? 

What magic makes thine eye so sweetly shine, 

" Come tell me, fairest." Thus too Ferreyra, one of the 
most pleasing" amongst the Portuguese writers : 

(t — Donde tomou amor, e de qual vea, 
u O ouro tao fino e puro para aquellas 
" Trancas louras ? — 

" Donde as perlas," &c. 

SONNET XIX. 

O tell me from what purer mine 
Did Love select that redden'd gold, 

Which fondly o'er thy brows divine 
Thus hangs in many an amorous fold ! 

Both Camoens and Ferreyra seem to have taken the idea 
from Petrarch, Sonn. 185. 

•* Onde tolse amor l'oro, e di qual vena 
" Per far due treccie bionde," &c 



ids 

Like the clear breaking of a summer's day ? 
And when did Ocean's rifled caves resign 

The pearly wealth thy parted lips betray, 
When they are sever'd by seducing smiles? 
— Yet hear me, fairest, since with barbarous care 3 
Such store of blandishment and dangerous wiles, 

To thee thy star's propitious genius gave, — - 

— Warn'd by the self-adorer's fate, beware, 
Nor gaze on yonder fount's reflecting wave I 



106 
SONNET. XI. 

" Apollo e as nove musas descantando 
" Com a dourada lira," &c. 

What time the liberal Muses deign'd to show'r 

Soft inspirations o'er my golden lyre, 

Love, only love, would all my notes inspire, 
While thus I sang, within my cottage-bow'r— 
u — -O blessed be the day, and blest the hour, 

" When first I felt the sweets of young desire ; 

" Blest be the eyes that woke my am'rous fire, 
" And blest the heart, so soon that own'd their 
" pow'r!" 

Such was of oid my cheerful roundelay, 
Till time made all the dear delusion flee, 

Tore from my heart, not love, but hope, away, 
And turning all my sunny scenes to night, 
VeiPd every prospect from my sick'ning sight, 

Save those of greater ills— if greater be 1 

Thus Petrarch; 

*' Benedetto sia 7 giorno, e7 mese, e I' anno" &c. 
** VeiPd every prospect," kSfc> 

There is a concetto in the original on the word Esperanca, 
which signifies both Expectation and Hope. 



tor 



SONNET XII. 



" Em flor v6s arrancou d'entao crescida 
" Ah Senhor Dom Antonio," &c, 



Dear lost Antonio ' whilst I yet deplore 

My bosom's friend— and mourn the withering 

blow 
Which laid, in manly fiow'r, the warrior low, 

Whose valour sham'd the glorious deeds of yore; 

E'en while mine eyes their humid tribute pour, 



Written on the death of Don Antonio de Noronha, who 
was slain in an encounter with the Moors on the 18th of April, 
1553. We must be careful not to confound this amiable young 
hero with the two inglorious viceroys of his name, nor with 
Don Antonio de Noronha, who was Governor of India in 1568, 
men remarkable for nothing but the rapacity and extortion 
which they displayed in the execution of their office. He 
whose premature death our Poet thus feelingly laments, was 
his earliest friend, and connected to him by a remarkable 
similarity of fortune. His father, the second Count of Li- 
nares, had sent him to join the Moorish expedition, in order 
to remove him from the object of an attachment which he had 
formed at Lisbon. It was in this expedition that he was slain. 
The circumstances of his death, as detailed by Sousa, exhibit 
all the chivalrous gallantry of those romantic days, when men 
were more than heroes, and women but just less than divine. 



108 

My spirit feels a sad delight, to know 

That thou hast but resign'd a world of woe 

For one, where pains and griefs shall wound no 
more; 

Tho' torn, alas, from this sublunar sphere, 

For ever torn, by War's ungentle hand, 

Still were the Muse but as Affection strong, 

My dead Antonio should revive in song, 

And, grac'd by Poetry's " melodious tear," 

Live, in the memory of a grateful land I 

*' Live in the memory," &c* So B. Tasso, 
" Viyro nelle memorie dei mortali." 

SOXXET J 



109 



SONNET XIII. 

" A fermosura desta fresca serra 

(< Ea sombra dos verdes castanheiros," &c. 

Silent and cool, now fresh'ning breezes blow 

Where groves of chesnut crown yon shadowy 
steep ; 

And all around the tears of Evening weep 
For closing day, whose vast orb, westering slow, 
Flings o'er th' embattled clouds a mellower glow, 

While hum of folded herds, and murmuring 
deep, 

And falling rills, such gentle cadence keep, 
As e'en might sooth the weary heart of woe ; 



The inefficacy of rural beauty to please, during the ab- 
sence of a mistress, is among the common-places of amatory 
poets. The language of the heart is so universal, that the 
similarity of this Sonnet to a passage in Langhorne will not 
surprise : 

" What are streams or flow'rs, 

" Or songs of blithe birds ? What the blushing rose 
" Young health, or music, or the voice of praise, 
" The smile of vernal suns, the fragrant breath 
(C Of evening gales — when Delia dwells afar I" 



110 

Yet what to me is eve, what evening airs, 
Or falling rills, or ocean's murmuring sound, 

While sad and comfortless I seek in vain 

Her who in absence turns my joy to cares, 
And as I cast my listless glances round, 

Makes varied scenery but varied pain! 



Ill 

SONNET XIV. 

" Senhora minha se a fortuna imiga 
" Que em minha nm," &c. 

My best-belov'd ! — although unpitying skies 
And wrathful fortune sternly thus conspire 
To bid thy servant's lingering steps retire 

Far from the temper'd gleam of beauty's eyes—* 

Bound still to thine by Love's eternal ties, 

That heart remains, where chaste and warm 

desire, 
Yet fondly glows with all its former fire, 

And Death's cold touch and wasting Time defies — . 

—.Yes — and as urg'd by Fate's commands I go 
To farthest regions, and unkindest shores, 
Oh there, thy magic name's mysterious charm 
Breath'd in a sigh, shall danger's self disarm, 

And while the combat raves, or tempest roars, 
Lull the loud storm, and sooth the threat'ning 
foe! 



Written on his departure for Africa. 

" Othen thy magic name's mysterious sound" It is proba- 
le, says the Commentator, that on such an emergency, he 
would have invoked the more powerful assistance of St. James 
©f Compostella, or the Archangel St. Michael. 



IV. 



SONNET XV. 

" Eu cantey ja d'amor ta5 docemente 
" Que, 5 * &c. &c. 

I sang of love — .and in so sweet a strain, 

That hearts most hard were soften'd at the 

sound 
And blushing girls who gaily throng'd around, 

" I sang of Love," &c Perhaps this thought was sug- 
gested by Dante. 

" Farei parlando innamorar la gente, 
'* — e raggionar 'd'amor si dolcemente, 
"Che face consentir lo cuore in lui — " 

RiME,yb/. iv. et x. 

So gaily shall the amorous minstrel sing*, 
His glowing verse shall soft persuasion bring, 
And while the strains in tides of sweetness roll, 
Teach warm consent to each enraptur'd soul. 

But Dante, unfortunately, did not fulfil his promise, for 
his minor poems on amatory subjects are often deficient in the 
ease and delicacy necessary to such compositions. 

" And blushing girls," &c. The aptitude of these young 
scholars brings to mind a celebrated passage in the Confes- 
" sions of St. Austin. " Si non amaveris, frigidce loquor : Da 
" amantem,, da sentientem,, da desiderantem — sciet quod loquor J" 
Confess. Cap. iii. § 4. 



113 

Felt their souls tingle with delightful pain— 
For quaintly did my chaunted songs explain 

Those little secrets that in love abound — 

Life ill a kiss, and death in absence found— 
Feign'd anger — slow consent— and coy disdain, 

And hardihood, at length with conquest crown'. d 
Yet did I not with these rude lips proclaim 

From whom my song such sweet instructions 
drew, 

Too weak, alas ! to pour the praises due 
From youthful gratitude, to grace the name 

Of her, who kindly taught me all she knew ! 



" Those little secrets" &c. So Ausias March, the Proven- 
cal; 

" He asats parlat d'amor, e de sos fets 
" E des cuberts molts amros secrets !" 

canto 73. 

Enough have amorous deeds employ'd my song, 
Enough those secrets that to Love belong. 

K5 



114 



SONNET XVI. 

" Se da celebre Laura a fermosura 

" Hum numeroso Cisne," &c 

If those fam'cl charms which grace the Tuscan 
fair 
Could wake a bard so tender and so true, 
Lady! to you, sure heavenly songs are due, 

Since Heav'n has form'd you with peculiar care ; 

Then how, alas, shall humble Liso dare 

" The Tuscan fair y' &c. Ferreyra has the same thought : 

Had you but grac'd that elder day 
When Petrarch poured his pensive lay ; 
By Sorga's stream, if haply you 
Had met the Poet's amorous view, 
O then the bard of Sorga's stream 
Had surely sung a sweeter theme, 
And to a nobler passion true, 
Tun'd his wild harp to Love and you ! 

" Then how, alas, shall humble Liso dare." 

JJso is the anagram of Lois. In the same manner, our 
Poet discreetly calls his mistress Natercia instead of Cater ina< 
Sometimes with more learned gallantry he gives her the 
name of At> v&pivn* 



115 

Attune his simple melodies to you ? 

Must I not trust to that kind chance anew 
Which whilom wove the rosy bands I bear, 
(When first it gave you to my amorous view;) 
— For certes, Lady, you derive your birth 

From yon pure sky, and did from thence descendj 
To cherish virtue on this lowly earth, 

And mortal hearts of baser mould amend, 
By bright example of superiour worth ! 



116 



SONNET XVII. 

" En vivia de lagrimas izento 
(( Num engano tao doce," &c. 

From sorrow free, and tears, and dull despair, 

I liv'd contented in a sweet repose ; 

I heeded not the happier star of those 
Whose amorous wiles achiev'd each conquer'd fair ; 
(Such bliss I deem'd full dearly bought with care :) 

Imitated from Petrarch, Sonnet 196. 



u I mi vivea di mia sorte contento, 
" Senza lagrinje, e senza invidia alcuna, 
" Che s'altro amante ha piu destra fortuna, 
" Mille piacer non vaglion un tormento !" 

I liv'd contented in my lowly state, 

Nor grief my heart disturb'd, nor jealous fear, 

I envied not the Lover's happier fate — 
— Can thousand joys repay a single tear ? 

" Such bliss I deem'd," he Thus Guillem Aesmer, the 
Troubadour. 

J* Mais vaut d'amor qi ben est enveios, 

« — Un dolz plorar non vaut qatorz sis!" &c. 



117 

Mine was meek Love, that ne'er to frenzy rose, 

And for its partners in my soul I chose 
Benevolence, that never dreamt a snare, 
And Independence, proudly cherish'd there ! 
— Dead now is Happiness — 'tis past, 'tis o'er — • 

And in its place, the thousand thoughts of 
yore, 
Which haunt my melancholy bosom, seem 
Like the faint memory of a pleasing dream— 

They charm a moment — and they are no more ! 

IMITATED. 

Some love to weep their prime away ; 

No charm to me in grief appears, 
And forty smiles could never pay 

A minute pass'd in tears ! 



118 
SONNET XVIII. * 

(v. LIFE OF CAMOENS, PAGE 10.) 

" Lindo sutil trancado que ficaste," &c. 

Dear band, which once adorn 'd my worshipp'd 
fair, 

Pledge of that better gift I hope to gain. 

In just reward of Love's long-suffer'd pain ; 
What mighty transport would my bosom share 
Had I but won a tress of that crisp hair, 

Whose rich luxuriance late thou didst restrain ! 

Much though I prize thee, must my heart com- 
plain, 
Since deem'd not worthy next its pulse to wear 

A little portion of that precious gold 1 
Dear band, my miser soul were griev'd indeed, 



t( Dear band," &c. Our Poet had implored Donna Ca- 
terina to grant him a lock of her hair. She promised to be- 
stow it at some future period, and in the mean-time presented 
him with the fillet which she wore round her head, as a pledge 
of her intentions in his favour. Faria- 

This Sonnet was perhaps suggested by that celebrated 
Poem of Garcilazo, beginning " O dulces prendas," &c 



119 

That stars severe and wayward fate withhold 
Truth's just reward, and long affection's meed. 

But that I know 'tis in Love's legends told, 
Gifts, small as these, to greatest blessings lead ! 

" Gifts small as these" Sec Literally, " By the laws of 
hove, part is taken in pledge for all.'' 9 



120 



SONNET XIX. 

" Senhor Joao Lopez, o meu baixo estado. 
" Ontem vi posto em," &c. 

O Lopez ! yesterday the stars were kind, 
And on my lowly state so fairly smii'd, 
That even thou, though Fortune's favour 'd child, 

For mine would gladly have thy lot resign'd. 

Her form I saw, who chains thy prison'd mind, 
Her voice I heard, which musically mild, 
While like a spell it every sense beguil'd, 

E'en lulPd to peace the rude and restless wind ! 

—Lopez ! that voice such rare persuasion arm'd. 
That, in a word, our hearts it better charm'd 

Than others could in thrice a thousand more : 
How have I since 'gainst Fortune rav'd and Love, 

? Cause that blind boy compels us thus t' adore 
Her, whom high fortune rears our hopes above ! 



" O Lopez /" This was Don John Lopez de Leytao, to 
whom our Poet afterwards addressed some very comical 
verses, occasioned by the sight of a piece of Indian cloth, 
which Leytao was about to present to a lady of whom he was 
enamoured. 



121 



SONNET XX. 



" Os olhos onde o casto Amor ardia 
" Ledo de se ver," &c. 



Those charming eyes, within whose starry sphere 
Love whilom sat, and smil'd the hours away, 
Those braids of light that sham'd the beams of day, 

That hand benignant, and that heart sincere ; 

Those virgin cheeks, which did so late appear 
Like snow-banks scatter' d with the blooms of May, 
Turn'd to a little cold and worthless clay, 

Are gone — for ever gone — and perish'd here, — 

-—But not unbath'd by Memory's warmest tear I 



Written on the death of Donna Caterina de Ataide. 

" Love saw the deed. 1 * The concetti with which this Son- 
net terminates were so obstinate as to compel the Translator 
in some degree to deviate from his original. 



122 

— -Death 1 thou hast torn, in one unpitying hour 
That fragrant plant, to which, while scarce a 
flow'r, 

The mellower fruitage of its prime was giv'n ; 

Love saw the deed — and as he linger'd near, 
Sigh'd o'er the ruin, and return'd to Heav'n ! 



123 



STANZAS. 



(SPANISH.) 



iS Mi nueva y dulce querela 
"Es invisible," &c. 



Within my bosom's cell I bear 

A recent wound — a valued woe ; 
It lurks unseen and buried there, 
No gazing eyes my secret know. 

It was, perhaps, too plainly told, 

When last I heard the speaking maid ; 

» — The rock untouch'd was hard and cold, 
— The stricken flint its fires betray'd ! 



124 



LUSIAD. CANTO VI. 

ESTANCIA XXXVIII. 

Em quanto este conselho se fazia, 

No fundo aquoso, a leda e lassa frota 
Com vento sossegado proseguia 

Pelo tranquillo mar, a longa rota: 
Era no tempo quando a luz do dia 
Do Eoo emisferio esta remota 
Os do quarto da prima se deitavam 
Para o segundo os outros despertavam. 



125 



THE NIGHT-SCENE IN THE VI. LUSIAD. 

XXXVIII. 

Meantime as thus below the murmuring deeps 
In solemn council meet the watery train, 

Her bold career the wearied navy keeps, 

Yet cheer'd by Hope, while o'er the tranquil 
main, 

To silence hush'd, the brooding tempest sleeps : 
— 'Twas at the hour, when long the solar wain 

Had roll'd down Heav'n— and rous'd from warm re- 
pose, 

Slow at their comrade's call the second watch arose. 



The Translator has to regret that the interruption of ill- 
ness prevented him from concluding this Canto, which gives a 
description of the Tournament held in London, during the days 
of John of Gaunt, when twelve Portuguese Chevaliers van- 
quished the same number of English. See Mr. Mickle's 
Translation. 

The few Stanzas which have been thus translated, afford 
a fair specimen of that " eking-out tautology' 1 which the con- 
straint of octave measure compelled Camoens to employ, and 
which is, perhaps, the greatest blemish in his Epic Poem. 



126 



XXXIX. 



Vencidos vem do sono, e mal despertos 
Bocejando a meudo, sa encostavao 

Pelas antenas, todos mal cubertos 

Contra os agudos ares, que assopravao; 

Os olhos contra seu querer abertos 

Mal esfregando, os membros estiravao, 

Remedios contra o sono buscar querem, 

Historias contain, casos mil referem. 

XL. 

Com que melhor podemos, hum dizia, 
Este tempo passar, que he tao pesado, 

Senao com algum conto de alegria 
Com que nos deixe o sono carregado ? 

Responde Leonardo, que trazia 
Pensamentos de firme namorado, 

Que contos poderemos ter melhores 

Para passar o tempo, que de amores ? 

XLI. 

Nao he disse Velloso, cousajusta, 
Tratar branduras em tanta aspereza, 

Que o trabalho do mar que tanto custa 
Nao sofre amores, nem delicadeza; 



127 



XXXIX. 



Scarcely awake, against the tapering mast, 
Heavy and cold recline the languid crew; 

The broad sail, flapping, wards the nightly blast 
Which as across the decks it keenly blew 

Through their worn garbs with piercing chillness past ; 
And each tir'd limb they stretch, lest sleep subdue 

Their lids that long to close, and all devise 

By converse short and forc'd, to shun his soft surprise. 

XL. 

" How can we better these dull hours employ, 
" How sleep defy," one watchful youth demands, 

" Than by some gay romance, some tale of joy, 
" To spur the time that now so stilly stands ?" 

" Yes," Leonard cries, (whom long the archer boy 
Had prison'd fast in beauty's gentle bands,) 

" Yes," Leonard cries, " 'twill charm the tedious night 

" To tell of venturous loves, and deeds of soft delight." 

XLI. 

M Perish that thought !" the bold Veloso cries; 

" Who talks of Love in danger's dire extremes ? 
" Shall we, while giant perils round us rise, 

" Shall we attend to those enerving themes ? 



128 

Antes de guerra fervida e robusta 

A nossa historia seja, pois dureza 
Nossa vida ha de ser, segundo entendo 
Que o trabalho por vir mo esta dizendo. 

XLII. 

Consentem nisto todos et encomendao 
A Velloso, que conte isto, que aprova ; 

Contarei, disse sem que me reprendao 
De contar cousa fabulosa ou nova : 

E porque os que me ouvirem daqui aprendao 
A fazer feitos grandes de alta prova, 

Dos nacidos direi na nossa terra, 

E estes sejao os doze de Inglaterra. 

XLIII. 

No tempo que do reyno a redea leve 

Joao nlho de Pedro moderava, 
Depois que sossegado e livre o teve, 

Do visinho poder que o molestava ; 
La, na grand Inglaterra que de neve 

Boreal sempre abunda, semeava 
A fera Erinnis dura, e ma cizania 
Que lustre fosse a nossa Lusitania ! 



129 



« No— rather some tremendous tale devise 

" Of war's alarms, for such our state beseems—* 
" So shall we scorn our present ills, and learn 
" To cope those coming toils my prophet eyes discern. 

XLII. 

He spoke — and all accord — and all exclaim, 
" To thee, Veloso, thee, the task is due !" 

" None, then," he cries, " shall this narration blame 
" For slighted truth, or fables told as true ; 

" Arms I rehearse, and such high feats of fame, 
" That all who hear shall glorious deeds pursue, 

" Fir'd by the praise their own compatriots gain'd, 

" Who erst the titled fight 'gainst England's Twelve 
" maintain'd. 

XLIII. 

" When mighty Juan held the regal reigns, 

" (Great Pedro's son) for gentlest sway renown'd 

" What time he boldly burst those despot chains 
" Which proud Castile about his country bound, 

" It happ'd in haughty England's cold domains, 
" Where Boreal snows for ever clothe the ground 

" Dire feuds arose — -and from that distant shore, 

w Eternal lights of fame our Lusian warriors bore." 



1902 









JP&S 






m- 





J? 



